


Of Death and Devotion

by MsOzma



Series: HSWC 2014 Fills [20]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsOzma/pseuds/MsOzma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The yellow-blooded former slave expressed his love as an undying wish to die for him; the green blood expressed hers as a desire to live for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Death and Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Paradox Space gave me ancestor feelings, and what better way to let them out then in the HSWC? Especially when a good prompt comes up?
> 
> Based on this prompt:
> 
> "Psiioniic&/Disciple
> 
> If You Die I Call Your Stuff - They both call dibs on each other's belongings."

The yellow blood a part of their posse was basically insane, and she in no way failed to not describe that insanity whenever possible. Even as she hastily jot down teachings of her Beloved in her books or in the caves they would sometimes need to sleep in, she would always write down the fact that the other man of the group was basically asking for a quick death. Really, this wasn't even something she had to guess at, since whenever her Beloved began proselytizing or lecturing, the self-proclaimed Ψiioniic would always cry in the middle of them his undying devotion to her Beloved, and his desire to do everything including "die" for him.  
  
Of course, even as she would feel an unsettling amount of devotion coming from this man, he would not sit down taking her glances and awkward stares lightly. Once, after one of his many outbursts, and when her flitting glance became a stare as usual, he scoffed at her, crossing his arms.  
  
"Like you have a  _right_  to judge me. You know just as well as I that you are perhaps the most devout of his disciples."  
  
It seemed weird that he would call her that. A "disciple." The word had a strangely religious tone to it that was not lost on the young green blood. She truly believed in the teachings of her Beloved, but she did not ever think of it in terms of being "devoted" enough or not. His words simply  _were_ , and she was the young candidate to hear them all, even when they were spoken in the most private of setting. They were her heart and soul, not something she felt the need to prostrate herself before.  
  
"If ever there were a time his life would be threatened," he continued, "you would be the  _first_  to lay your life on the line, and everyone here knows it." Then, as if to suddenly make it a competition, he quickly added, "And  _I_  would be second."  
  
The young woman--or "Disciple," if that's what he decided to call her--smiled and rolled her eyes at the transparent desires of her yellow-blooded companion. It was clear that he felt a death for the man who freed him from his shackles was the best reward for he could receive, that he felt he even deserved. Even beyond servitude, he still felt he was only good enough to serve others--as if a sense of doom defined all of his actions. However, for one who so trusted in the teachings of the man they both followed, she knew she had every right to live, as much as anyone else did. And she also knew she didn't need to die to defend him.  
  
After all, she was a skilled hunteress. And hunteresses  _always_  kill their prey.  
  
"If that's how you feel," she said to him. "But when you die, I'd like to have your suit."  
  
He noticeably winced at her complete dismissal of his prediction, and she had to chuckle, even if her Beloved turned a stray eye toward her, distracted for a second from his lecture. The yellow blood, as a retort (and feeling so obviously superior to her in terms of devotion for  _not_ interrupting his Savior) harshly whispered to her, "Not if I have your book  _first_ , woman."  
  
A hearty laugh erupted from the green blood, interrupting yet again their leader's lectures, causing him to cast a frustrated look at the woman. But a quick wink in his direction forced his frown to upturn into a smile, and he so continued his lecture. The yellow blood, too, loosened at this, and even gave her a small smile as well.  
  
When she escaped to the caves, with nothing but the rags of her deceased Beloved on her back, she thought fondly of that smile, and the horrors it was experiencing under service of Her Imperious Condescension. She also thought fondly of the name "Disciple," and felt it a fitting parting gift from a man who never got his one wish to die for the man who saved him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm...I could use this for another work.
> 
> HMMMMMM....


End file.
